But the next remedy in such a case and hap
Is to planch[191] on a piece as broad as thy cap.
Hodge. Gog's soul, man, 'tis not yet two days fully ended,
Since my dame Gurton (cham sure) these breeches amended.
But cham made such a drudge to trudge at every need,
Chwold rend it, though it were stiched with sturdy packthread.
Diccon. Hodge, let thy breeches go, and speak and tell me soon,
What devil aileth Gammer Gurton, and Tib her maid to frown.
Hodge. Tush, man, th' art deceived, 'tis their daily look:
They cow'r[192] so over the coals, their eyes be blear'd with smoke.